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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24637444">Let Me Fix Your Broken Wings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkblood/pseuds/darkblood'>darkblood</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pilgrimage (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive Relationships, Adultery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, for good reasons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:35:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,055</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24637444</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkblood/pseuds/darkblood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>His neighbors are loud for all the wrong reasons.</p><p>It's not that they play music loud, have pets, or constantly redecorating. They never have company over, nor do they watch movies with the sound at max. </p><p>It's because they're fighting. REALLY fighting. </p><p>David can't help but intervene.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brother Diarmuid/The Mute, Raymond De Merville/Brother Diarmuid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They were fighting again. David could hear them as he got ready for work. He generally could.</p><p> </p><p>They hadn’t been his neighbors for very long, only about three months or so now, but he already knew their names and could tell who was talking by voice alone. Raymond was the louder of the two, and the softer one had an odd name, something foreign probably. Deermin? Something like that. Their words weren’t always clear, but after a while, it was easy to tell that the Raymond fellow generally started the fights. </p><p> </p><p>At first they were annoying, especially since he worked nights, so waking up during the day to neighbors fighting wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience. He debated several times on whether he should go over there and tell them to please be quieter, but considering his lack of voice, that made it a bit difficult to be taken seriously. </p><p> </p><p>His annoyance changed to worry when he started to hear more noises as the weeks went on. There were thuds, slamming of doors or other furniture, and he heard the softer voice cry at one point as the man seemed to be right against the wall while doing it. David’s ideas of going over there turned into concerns on whether he should get the police involved or not. </p><p> </p><p>He’d try not to think about it, and generally distracted himself with work and exercise, possibly a book now and then. With his luck, it was only a matter of time before he’d have to face it, and that moment came sooner rather than later. </p><p> </p><p>Work ended up going longer than intended due to a truck arriving late and David was the only one at the time with a licence for the automated jacks. On top of that also had to pick up a few things from the grocery aisles. When he finally walked home, it was 8:30 am, and he was ready to fucking eat something. </p><p> </p><p>He skillfully opened the apartment complex’s front door while holding 3 bags of groceries and a jug of milk. While walking up the stairs, he fished his keys from his pockets, and suddenly stopped when he reached the top. </p><p> </p><p>The door just to the right of his, the apartment of the quarreling couple, had someone sitting in front of it.  A fairly small someone. It was hard to get a read on them as they sat curled up into a ball against the door, but judging by the hands tightly gripping biceps, it was a young man. There was also a ring on his left hand. </p><p> </p><p>He must have been the soft voiced one. Deermin or something. </p><p> </p><p>David kept his eye on the young man as he set down his bags and opened his door. Even with all the noise, the man still didn’t move, which rubbed him the wrong way. If anything, it almost seemed like the man curled up tighter. David chewed the inner part of his cheek as he pocketed his keys, deciding what to do to alleviate this sudden lump of lead in his stomach. When his mind finally chose its answer, he let out a sigh. </p><p> </p><p>He picked up his groceries from off the floor, then hesitantly walked over to the other man and nudged him lightly with his foot. Finally, the other man looked up, and David realized he was a fair bit younger than him. Quite pretty too. It took a moment to regain his thoughts, but David nodded his head in the direction of his apartment, hopefully indicating the other to follow him. The younger man blinked in response, but David didn’t stick around to see what happened next. He entered his apartment and left the door open behind him, then busied himself with putting food away and preparing supper. His nerves started getting to him when he began pulling out dishes for himself, however they suddenly eased when he turned and saw the young man tentatively enter, shutting the door behind him slowly and quietly. David grabbed additional dishes and set a place for his guest as well. </p><p> </p><p>“O-oh, y-you don’t need to do that,” the man finally spoke, but David paid no mind. </p><p> </p><p>Once his dinner of fried chicken with ham and cheese macaroni salad was out and ready for the taking, he grabbed himself a glass of milk along with a glass of water for his visitor before sitting down and dishing out a helping onto his plate. The younger man stood awkwardly for a moment, rubbing his hands with uncertainty. When David started eating, he finally sat down and had a drink of water. </p><p> </p><p>They sat in silence for a while, though David had a feeling the other expected <em> him </em>to start the conversation, which David would prefer not to do. He’d rather push that mess back as far as possible. Halfway through eating, his guest sheepishly put a small lump of macaroni salad onto his plate.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m Diarmuid, by the way.”</p><p> </p><p>Diarmuid. Not Deermin. Got it.</p><p> </p><p>David nodded in recognition as he continued eating. </p><p> </p><p>There was an awkward pause, and Diarmuid cleared his throat a little before asking, “What’s your name.”</p><p> </p><p>David bit his tongue for a moment, then remembered he was still wearing his work smock. He leaned back slightly to tap his name tag still attached to his breast pocket. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” said Diarmuid. He looked a bit embarrassed. “Right, sorry.”  </p><p> </p><p>The older man shrugged it off. Their first encounter wasn’t exactly off to a roaring start, but it could have been worse, he reminded himself. He did have a pang of relief however when he saw Diarmuid finally take a bite of his food and seemed pleased by the taste. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m still fairly new to this town,” he continued. “Have you been here long?”</p><p> </p><p>David thought about it for a moment, then nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“I haven’t really gotten a chance to get out much since we moved here. That is, my husband and I. He’s… been pretty busy, so I didn’t want to bother him too much.”</p><p> </p><p>He stopped talking to eat more of his salad, and David took the opportunity to move his now empty dishes to the sink, as well as take off his smock to hang in on the coat tree. </p><p> </p><p>“You … don’t talk much, do you?”</p><p> </p><p>At hearing the familiar phrase, David stalled and looked down. He was gonna have to bite the bullet sooner than later. He huffed to himself quietly, grabbed the electrical device from his work pocket and carried it back with him to the table, where he sat with it nestled in his hands. He looked over at his neighbor, who sheepishly looked back at him. He seemed rather nice. Maybe it’ll be fine…</p><p> </p><p>“Um…” Diarmuid slowly asked, tapping his fork a bit on his plate as he prepared himself. “Why did you invite me in?”</p><p> </p><p>David took a deep breath, let it out, then put his electrolarynx to his throat.</p><p> </p><p>“ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴏᴋᴀʏ.”</p><p> </p><p>The fork the younger man was holding clattered loudly against his plate when he dropped it in shock. His eyes were wide in realization, and David could see it, that lining of pity that he always received when people realized why he didn’t talk. Generally once people found that out, they tended to avoid him, and when he <em> did </em>talk to them, he could see them try to suppress a cringe at the sound of his electronic monotone voice. It was the main reason he worked inventory. You didn’t need to talk when you spent all night moving boxes from here to there.</p><p> </p><p>Diarmuid looked down, blinking several times, obviously thinking quickly. David looked down as well, and waited for the words he always heard.</p><p> </p><p>“I see,” he slowly said, and picked up his mistreated fork. He tapped the plate a few times, pushing around what little food was left. “I guess I looked pretty melodramatic sitting out there, huh?” he half laughed, keeping his eyes locked to his plate.</p><p> </p><p>This was a first. He expected apologies to come babbling out in regards to his disability, but none came. It was as though it wasn’t even there. </p><p> </p><p>Interesting. </p><p> </p><p>“ᴅɪᴅ ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴜᴛ?”</p><p> </p><p>Diarmuid froze, then raised his head to match eyes with David.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” he asked in an almost breathy manner.</p><p> </p><p>“ʀᴀʏᴍᴏɴᴅ. ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ. ᴅɪᴅ ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴜᴛ?”</p><p> </p><p>“How do you...” he started, his eyes slid over to the wall separating their apartments. “Oh sweet Mary, you can hear us…”</p><p> </p><p>Again, the younger man behaved differently from what David expected him to do. Instead of acting embarrassed, or flustered, or even angry, there was only fear on his face. It wasn’t the fear of spilled secrets, or the fear of something unknown, but a fear generated over time. The kind of fear you have when you know what is coming next. The tension in the man’s arms and shoulders were hard to look at, as though he was bracing for something. David couldn’t stop himself from having the feeling that it was the way he looked before getting hit. </p><p> </p><p>Out of his own fear that the man would suddenly jump up and bolt, David decided to say one last thing.</p><p> </p><p>“ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ɴᴇᴇᴅ sᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ sᴀғᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴅᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ.”</p><p> </p><p>Diarmuid stared at him as though not believing the words that were just said, but David did see his shoulders gradually relax. </p><p> </p><p>“... you … won’t tell anyone?”</p><p> </p><p>David hated how sad the question made him feel, but he shook his head ‘no’ regardless. </p><p> </p><p>The younger man eventually nodded, and let out a small chuckle, possibly of disbelief. </p><p> </p><p>“You were right,” he said, his voice thicker than before. There was a gleam in the corners of his eyes as well. “He locked me out. I won’t be able to get back in until he gets home from work.  Didn’t even let me grab my phone or my wallet.”</p><p> </p><p>With that, David started putting the leftovers into the fridge, then fired up his Playstation to bring up Netflix. He gave Diarmuid, who was watching intently, a head nod towards the couch where he then sat down. It wasn’t much of a couch. It was small and old, but it was soft enough to get the job done. It didn’t take long for Diarmuid to join him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>David awoke to someone shaking him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up a bit on his couch. His neighbor, Diarmuid, awkwardly waved back at him. He then sat up completely straight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rubbing his face, he whirled his head around to check the time on the stove clock. It was just after four in the afternoon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” said Diarmuid, rubbing one of his wrists. “I realized after a bit that you work nights, so when you fell asleep, I didn’t want to wake you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David shook his head, then patted himself down looking for his electrolarynx. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right. Sorry,” he apologized again and leaned forward to grab hold of the device sitting safely on the coffee table. “It had fallen off your lap and I didn’t want you to step on it by accident. I … don’t really know how fragile these are, but I didn’t feel like risking it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He held it out with a flat palm, like how one would feed carrots to horses, almost as though he was afraid David would bite. David pushed the thought out of his mind and took his voice box from Diarmuid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴀᴛ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diarmuid hummed and nodded a bit bashfully. “I ate one of your bananas, if that’s okay…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David nodded and gave a thumbs up. It was a sparse meal, but it was better than missing lunch completely due to him being a bad host and falling asleep while company was over. He looked around and nothing seemed to have moved while he was asleep, save for the banana bunch now missing one brother. The Playstation was still on, with Netflix still running, though they were on the menu as opposed to actually watching anything. Considering the console hadn’t fallen into rest mode told him that it had been interacted with recently. He wondered if Diarmuid was too nervous to do anything else other than keep watching what had been presented to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyway,” Diarmuid started warily, “I should get going. I don’t think Raymond would be pleased if I wasn’t there to greet him when he returned. I also didn’t feel it was very polite to simply leave and have your door remain unlocked while you were sleeping.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right…Raymond…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded and grabbed the controller to turn off the system as well as the tv before standing and stretching, Diarmuid shortly following suit. He walked alongside his guest to the door, a feeble attempt to make up for him falling asleep earlier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diarmuid looked down at his feet and let out a small laugh at the realization he didn’t have any shoes to put on, since he had been left out in the hall barefooted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said. He almost seemed to be avoiding the door. “It was incredibly nice of you. Especially since I’m a stranger. Well,” he side glanced at the wall separating their apartments. “Mostly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David nodded and tried to give a smile, something he wasn’t very practiced at. It was probably lopsided and on the verge of uncomfortable, but he felt he should try. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, his attempt at a smile wasn’t horrendous, for Diarmuid smiled back at him warmly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smile dropped slightly when he looked down and finally grabbed the doorknob. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David found himself snapping his fingers to get Diarmuid’s attention, to stop him from leaving quite yet. David hadn’t formulated what exactly the reason was to stop Diarmuid, but in the seconds that Diarmuid stared at him with kind eyes, his mind finally caught up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He fished his phone out of his jeans and handed it to the younger man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀᴄᴛ ɪɴғᴏ. ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ Rᴀʏᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴜᴘsᴇᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀ. Lᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪɴғᴏ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ’ʟʟ ᴛᴇxᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ sᴀʏ ɪᴛ’s sᴀғᴇ. Tʜᴇɴ sᴀᴠᴇ ᴍʏ ɪɴғᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀs ᴍʏ ɴᴀᴍᴇ.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diarmuid was cradling David’s phone with both his hands, listening very carefully to the electro words being said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ᴏᴋᴀʏ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His brows furrowed a bit and his mouth flattened, but Diarmuid nodded and punched his number into the contacts page. Once it was entered, he held the phone for a while longer, seemingly staring through it as opposed to at it. David wasn’t sure if Diarmuid was going to cry or not, but the phone was eventually handed back to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was hesitation, then he said, “He works eight thirty to five, Monday through Friday, and every other Saturday. Any of those times are good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David double checked his phone before pocketing it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When do you work?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ᴛʜᴜʀsᴅᴀʏ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍᴏɴᴅᴀʏ, ᴛᴇɴ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴠᴇɴ.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you work right at the store two blocks away?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diarmuid nodded back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He went to grab the door again, but withdrew his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to be a burden.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a little sigh, David put a hand on Diarmuid’s shoulder and shook his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴀɴʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs,” he admitted slowly, attempting to smile again. “ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴜsᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That seemed to be what Diarmuid needed to hear, for a wide smile formed on his face accompanied by a small line of tears filling his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Diarmuid said once more, then finally opened the door and closed it behind him, adding a small wave before leaving completely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Out of curiosity, David leaned against his own door to hear the other move in the hallway. The soft thud of a body against a door, the slide of fabric against fake wood, and small huffs of trying to regain composure. He looked to the clock and realized Diarmuid would still be sitting out there for another half hour at least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He should also try to get more sleep before work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead, he read a book in silence with his back to his own door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was strange how much he suddenly cared for this man he had only just met, that he had never spoken with until earlier that day. He must have absorbed too much of Diarmuid through the walls, with ever scream and cry latching onto his skin for dear life. Now that he had seen Diarmuid’s face, seen the way he could smile, as well as watch that smile disappear in an instant due to fear, it made the voice beyond the wall into a real person. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A person that deserved better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Confident footsteps coming up the stairs caught his attention, and he closed his book to rest his head against the door, ear pressed just enough to the fake wood to let him hear better. He heard the steps stop, something being set down onto the ground, and then whispers. One of these whispers he now knew to be Diarmuid, which meant the other must have been Raymond. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While they were too quiet to make out the words, David could still hear the tone, a tone much softer than what he was used to hearing. There were odd pauses in their speech, which he realized was due to kisses when he heard a muffled grunt and a small gasp. It didn’t take long for their door to be unlocked and their presence vanished from the hallway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David remained sitting for a moment longer, looking around and chewing his lip as he thought about the entire situation. It’s obvious there wasn’t just hate there, they had gotten married at some point for a reason, but still, it made his throat want to close up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After running a hand over his face, he finally stood and locked his own door. It was time to get some sleep. Friday nights were busy truck nights, so he was going to need the rest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d also have to wait until Monday to text Diarmuid. That thought alone was going to weigh more than anything he was going to be moving that night at work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monday couldn’t come soon enough.</span>
</p>
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